The Beating...

The speeding feet in the pounding rain. The perpetual beat of a heart. Pounding blood. There is a cave in my heart.
Stepping out of the rain, into the shadows, the noise transitions from the wash of the cloudburst to the flow of your anxious blood. Then to the pounding of your heart. It's so loud. Terrifying, yet trusted.
The roar is overwhelmed by the beating. The beating of dark membranes. You have disturbed them. You are enveloped by their plethora of leather-silk wings.
Neither bird nor beast, the ostracized. Bats. After they have settled, you see the moonlight reflected in two tapetums. The truth in those eyes, is it familiar to you? Or should you be frightened? How many lives has this creature lived?
Come in, friend. Step closer, enemy. You were washed by the rain, rinsed by the darkness, dried by the wings, and clothed. By a purpose.
Am I a panther? Am I the dusk?

THE PLAN for Labels

CHARACTERS are influential people in my tales.
BROWN is tales from a span of ages.
WHITE is tales from age 0-7.
RED is tales from age 8-14.
ORANGE is tales from age 14-21.
YELLOW is tales from age 22-28.
GREEN is tales from age 29-35.
BLUE is tales from age 36-42.
INDIGO is tales from age 43-49.
PURPLE is tales from age 50-56.
BLACK is tales from age 57-63.
Grey is an insight into how these tales may be affecting me.

Labels

Saturday, April 12, 2008

Asterisk (Risk)

I played this game once where there was this weapon that they called the asterisk. It was a Shuriken, a throwing star, that would blast apart into two stars at the push of an RC button. If you so chose, you could press The Button again, detonating the stars after they were embedded in your obstacles or enemies!

My favorite of all my mother's boyfriend's. Schizophrenic, unmannered, foul-tempered, prone to paranoia, Kenny was the best damn driver this side of the dirt. Despite his personality flaws, there were times he'd talk civilly to you. During those times, he'd somehow give a piece of advice you've never heard before or since that proves precious and true. His hard-earned life advice was more precious and rare than platinum-encrusted meteorites.

Most important of all, even though he was a black belt (like my father) and former varsity wrestler who, when I knew him, weighed around 300 lbs and was well over 6' tall, NEVER hit my mother. We went many rounds. He actually pinned me in such a way to where I could literally kiss my own ass after I destroyed his cigarettes...

His self-loathing and paranoia did him in with regards to their relationship. He's incarcerated somewhere now after running down Byrd with a truck.

0 Responses: